“They will need you all the more, and you must be strong for their sakes. That’s what she would wish, isn’t it?”
“Yes, yes. I must take care of the children. And Fred—poor Fred! but he hasn’t loved her as I have done for nearly thirty years. Father, when can we get back?”
“I’ll see, my dearie. I’ll see! Leave all to me. I’ll settle it all, and this good lassie will pack your things. Ye need trouble for nothing, my lass,—ye need trouble for nothing.”
He laid his broad hand on his wife’s shoulder with a gesture infinitely tender, then turned and went stumbling out of the room, while Margot’s eyes met the tear-drenched ones above her with a flash of enthusiasm.
“He is—splendid!”
Even at that moment Mrs Macalister showed a faint kindling of response.
“Didn’t I tell ye? When a man’s out of health ye canna judge. When he’s in his usual, there’s no one to touch Mr Macalister.”
With an instinctive movement Margot turned her head upward till her eyes met those of George Elgood, and exchanged a flash of mutual understanding. It heartened her like a drink of water in a thirsty land, for underlying the pity and the kindliness she recognised something else; something that existed for herself alone, and which seemed to bring with it an electric thrill of happiness.
Outside in the “lobby” the Chieftain was looking up trains in his own Bradshaw, and arranging with Mrs McNab for the long drive to the station, while Mr Macalister was writing out a return message with trembling fingers.
“Come upstairs with me, dear!” said Margot gently. “You shall lie on the bed while I do the packing. It’s a long journey, and you must be as fresh as possible when you arrive. They will be waiting for you, you know, and expecting you to comfort them. You have told me how they all rely upon you. You wouldn’t like to fail just when they need you most!”